He was known for his huge and eccentric hairstyles, even as he grew older, streaking his gray with fabulous colors and sculpting it into fantastic shapes.
He did all the work himself, with the assistance of a myriad of styling tools and a room full of mirrors he designed himself.
He began styling his hair into fanciful animals. One day he’d tease his hair into the shape of an adorable panda. The next a majestic lion’s mane. Then he would dye his ‘do into elaborate tiger stripes.
Everyone was delighted, until someone touched his hair without warning and got bitten.
The call came through the dark woods. A series of high trills, two long, one short. Hidden under a tall tree, the two commandos nodded to each other. That was the signal.
They crept through the underbrush, heading inexorably towards their target while maintaining their stealth. The signal meant the coast was clear. They’d be able to place the explosives without being seen, but they had a short window to get in and out. Everything was going according to plan.
High above them, the little songbird called again and alighted from its branch, unaware of what was about to unfold.
If you haven’t seen it – WARNING: This is not the copy we used, YMMV
Chrononaut Cinema Reviews is presented by https://www.skinner.fm and http://hughjodonnell.com, and is released under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial 3.0 Unported License.
Today’s story is Hostile Architecture.
Written, read, and produced by Hugh J. O’Donnell.
This episode’s music is “The Crypt” by Dark Fantasy Studio, composed and produced by Nicolas Jeudy.
I knocked on the door of my advisor’s office at magic college.
“You wanted to see me, Professor?”
“Yes, come in. I’ve been reviewing your application to pursue a double major, and I want you to clarify something for me,” He said.
“Is there a problem?”
“Necromancy and Bardic Studies.” He said, looking over the form. “How do you plan to apply these fields practically?”
“Necromancers raise the dead, and bards entertain the living, right? And even the dead can dance.”
“So this would be for performance?”
“I’m going to be the most metal bard of all time!” I exclaimed.
The popup bakery didn’t exactly make cupcakes. Instead, they made exquisite, miniature versions of larger baked goods.
Their Victoria sponge cakes were dusted with an almost imperceptible layer of the finest powdered sugar customers had ever seen. Their carrot cakes were topped with impossibly small whole carrots. Their black forest gateaus were covered in tiny cherries.
The baker became famous for the delicacy of his work, and was constantly asked for his secret.
No one was allowed in the back of the kitchen, where teams of tiny chefs toiled night and day on the fabulous creations he took credit for.
“Hey Lenny!” The other raven sidled up to him on the railing. A beautiful spring morning was about to be ruined, again. He tried to fly away, but another raven had appeared on his left, boxing him in.
He could hear it building on the edge of hearing, a peppy beat from nowhere. The two ravens were telling each other terrible jokes, building towards the inevitable burst of show tunes, with him caught in the middle.
He had vague memories of another life, before the endless singsong. He remembered having too much to drink, a car crash, flames, and darkness.
Time travel proved too dangerous for humans, but the technology still had its uses. We sent robots back to study the past.
We kept them out of the anthropocene to prevent any paradoxes, but the Jurassic was another story. We’d send back a geotagged bot, then dig up their data in the same spot. Their AI was super-advanced, almost human, which did lead to some foibles.
I tried to explain to my boss as they watched unit 77J’s ultimately destructive attempt to learn to surf.
“At least we learned a lot about tidal action of that era,” I ventured.
She began saving time. She kept it in a jar on her bedside table, next to the one that held her loose change, the minutes and seconds piling on top of one another until it was overflowing with moments that glittered in the morning sunlight. Then she moved it to her safe. She’d hate for it to be stolen.
“I was wasting so much of it,” She told a friend over lunch.
“What are you going to do with it, though?” He asked. “Take a trip? Pay off some regrets?”
“I’m going to keep it in a bottle,” she decided.
“I made a Fire Crystal!” The apprentice held up a faintly glowing orang-red stone.
“Why?” The wizard asked. This was not the response she was hoping for.
“Fire is useful. It gives warmth, light, and comfort.”
“And it also causes pain, injury and ruin, my young apprentice.”
“Should I not have?”
“Remember that artifacts are not the same as spells. They exist separate from your will, and can be used outside your control. You made a tool, but in another person’s hands, that is a weapon.” He pushed up the sleeve of his robe to show her his scars.
Hugh J. O'Donnell 
Podcast: CCRC62 – Thunder In Paradise S1E1
March 20, 2020
hughjodonnell CCR, CCR Commentary, Podcast, Uncategorized Chrononaut Cinema Reviews, Commentary Track, hugh, Jurd, Opopinax, Rich The T T, The 90's, Wresting Leave a comment
Tonight your hosts, Hugh, Rich the Time Traveler, Opop, and Jurd, discover what happens when Hulkamania runs wild on them.
Click HERE to listen to the commentary track!
If you haven’t seen it – WARNING: This is not the copy we used, YMMV
Chrononaut Cinema Reviews is presented by https://www.skinner.fm and http://hughjodonnell.com, and is released under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial 3.0 Unported License.